


Living Art

by AwkwardFortuna



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Paint, Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Painting, Prompt Fill, Smut, artist! Joe, paint gets everywhere you guys, slightly service top Joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardFortuna/pseuds/AwkwardFortuna
Summary: "I think maybe orange next, yes?" Joe pants, breathless like he's run a mile, smiling at Nicolo as though he is the art fully realized and not the canvas, blank and waiting. "...Like the sun setting into the sea?""Yes." Orange like the sunsets in Malta. Orange like the rays of light seeping in through the window, shining a golden light onto Joe, making him glow. Nicky nods his head, smearing a stray arch of blue into the length of his hair. He is no artist. He can not craft beauty and emotion in the ways that Joe can, be he wants with a sudden hunger, to coat every surface of himself and the canvas too, in color.Or,Nicky is Joe's canvas and paint gets everywhere.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 21
Kudos: 181





	Living Art

Joe's got Nicky on his back, laid out naked and loose-limbed, still a bit flushed from their last romp between the sheets.

Only now, Joe's got him reclining on a blank canvas that takes up the entirety of their living room floor. There are buckets of paint strewn about, the contents of which contain nearly every color from beneath the sun. Joe's cradling the curve of Nicky's left ankle, sliding it up the canvas until he is resting in the correct position that Joe so desires.

When he had first suggested this...this _creative endeavor,_ Nicolo had not known what to expect. But now, he was starting to see the appeal.

Joe is standing over him, clothed in only his denim jeans, unbuttoned and hanging dangerously low on his hips. He is barefoot with one foot on either side of Nicky's face. Nicky leans over to press a kiss to the smooth skin of Joe's ankle and there is something terribly fond in Joe's eyes when he does that, so Nicky does it again and again, until Joe has to step away from him with a reluctant little sigh.

"Try not to move, my love," Joe hums before grabbing a paint can and dangling it over Nicky, tilting the cerulean color over him in a sudden cascade of blue.

The paint is _cold,_ surprisingly so, and Nicky can't help but shiver as it washes over him, painting his naked skin in a way that makes him gasp and flinch. 

"Sorry, sorry," Joe sighs, shifting his weight and pouring the paint a bit more slowly in a controlled stream that coats Nicky from his chest to his hips and the canvas beneath him, as well as the floors. The paint seeps over in thick globs of blue and soaks deep into the wood, no doubt staining it for centuries to come. _(Nicky will look fondly at the paint stains and remember this.)_

"I think maybe orange next, yes?" Joe pants, breathless like he's run a mile, smiling at Nicolo as though he is the art fully realized and not the canvas, blank and waiting. "...Like the sun setting into the sea?" 

"Yes." Orange like the sunsets in Malta. Orange like the rays of light seeping in through the window, shining a golden light onto Joe, making him _glow._ Nicky nods his head, smearing a stray arch of blue into the length of his hair. He is no artist. He can not craft beauty and emotion in the ways that Joe can, be he wants with a sudden hunger, to coat every surface of himself and the canvas too, in color.

Joe pours the orange over him, his gaze heated and watching as the paint drips down between Nicky's thighs like a phantom caress of Joe's hands. Nicky gasps at the coolness, his dick twitches with life and while his face is mostly coated with flecks of paint, Joe spies the blush creeping in through the shades of orange and blue all the same.

He pours yellow next, and then pink for good measure, with hints of purple and white until Nicolo is practically _anointe_ _d_ and bathing in it. He feels reborn by it, raw and blessed at the same time, aching for the physical press of Joe's hands on him, against him, inside of him. Everything around him (and on him) is wet, he is tempted to take his aching dick between his hands with the slick of Malta's sunset to bring himself to completion but he does not want to ruin this just yet. The canvas slides beneath Nicky with every rise and fall of his chest and he closes his eyes against the feeling, trying in vain to compose himself and the lust thrumming through his veins.

When next Nicolo opens his eyes, it is to the image of Joe standing over him, watching him as though he can commit the very image of Nicolo to memory.

"Hayati," Joe breaths, stepping onto the canvas and kneeling over him, one knee on either side of his head, sliding somewhat in the mess of paint and staining the denim of his jeans with it. "Touch yourself."  
  
Nicolo does not need to be told twice.

He strokes himself to full hardness, goose flesh rising from the cool slick of paint on the sensitive tip of his cock head.

Joe cradles his face in his hands, thumbing at the curve of his jaw before leaning down to kiss him in a mess of teeth and bitter acrylics. Nicky moans into his mouth, letting his dick go with one hand in order to cradle Joe's hips, staining the denim with purple and yellow, dragging his hand and thus the paint down below the waistband of his jeans until he wraps his fingers around Joe's cock and _frees_ it.

Joe grunts and falls forward, catching himself on the palm of his hands just above Nicky's head, keening suddenly when Nicky begins to mouth at the tip of his dick, tongue curling around the head of it and stroking idly with his palms coated in purples and pinks. 

"Nicky, _Nicky, Nicky,"_ Joe breathes, dragging a hand down into the fine and blue coated strands of Nicolo's hair. _"Nicolo,_ you take my breath away."

Nicky takes him in deeper with a whimper, eyes fluttering shut, jaw going slack in order to accept the length of him.

Joe's grip on his hair tightens, the strands are now clumped together in the blue of Yusuf's fist. 

"Nicky," Joe moans, undulating his hips, nudging past the 'o' in the back of Nicolo's throat who swallows and moans against him, hips straining and flexing upwards in want of joe's hands, his mouth, his body, his _anything._

Nicky moans and suddenly Joe is stilling before pulling out of him, gripping tightly at the base of his dick as if to steer clear of a premature orgasm. A strand of saliva, tinted purple form the paint connects them for a moment before severing. 

Joe leans down and kisses him, mouthing at the swollen flush of his lips and the bright orange coated there on his chin.

"Joe," Nicky moans, arms coming around him, leaving a pathway of handprints on the tan of his skin. "Joe, I want-"  
  
"Anything," Joe gasps against him, "whatever you want."  
  
Nicky tugs at his jeans.   
  
"These. Off."

Joe stands up for a moment and Nicolo mourns the loss. He steps out of his jeans, nearly losing his balance on the slick of the canvas beneath him before tossing the pants haphazardly behind him.

Practically falling back onto Nicolo, Yusuf kisses a pathway down to his groin, starting at his mouth and finishing at the curve of his dick, mouthing along the side of it in a way that leaves Nicky gasping and arching off of the canvas.

It doesn't take long to make Nicky come undone. A few gentle strokes, the wet heat of Joe's mouth and his tongue. The slick mixture of paint and saliva coating Joe's hands makes Nicky _writhe_ beneath him, painting the canvas in a new mix of strokes and colors.

Nicky rears his head back, clutching onto Joe like he's a life-line.

"Fuck me," Nicky gasps, rolling his hips and grinding against Yusuf. He is still wet and slightly open from earlier in the day. Sore too, but it is only a minor ache and Nicky craves more of it. He wats to be consumed by him. "Please?"  
  
Joe kisses the curve of his hip and down, down, to the fluttering hole of him, pressing his tongue flat against the pink furl until he is soft and pliant and ready for his fingers.

Nicky clutches onto Joe's shoulders, panting, clenching down on where his fingers are curling inside of him.

"Joe, Joe I'm ready," Nicky moans, rolling his hips, encouraging Joe to give up on the prep work and fuck him already. "P-please Joe, I-"  
  
"Anything," Joe pants, pressing one last lingering kiss to the jut of his hip before reaching blindly for his discarded jeans and thumbing a packet of lube free from the pocket.

He slicks himself up, a mix of lube with streaks of sunset and Nicolo's saliva.

Joe presses into him with a slow and languid thrust and Nicolo comes alive, back arching, hands slapping down on the canvas, splattering streaks of yellow and pink between them. Somehow along the way, the majority of Nicky's paint has transferred onto Joe. He is nearly as coated in it as Nicky had been, and Joe leans down to kiss him, mouthing at the mark on his cheek with a moan and a roll of his hips that leaves Nicky gasping and tightening around him.

"Joe," Nicky pants, pulling Joe close and flush against him, sucking marks onto the side of his neck which disappear unfairly quick. "Joe," Nicky gasps again, abdomen tightening, dick rutting against the curl of Joe's stomach in a way that makes his entire body shiver.

Joe moans into his mouth, panting his name, falling from Arabic into Italian, pledging his heart, body and soul to Nicolo, cradling the sides of his face and angling him in such a way that smears blue and orange (the sun melting into the sea,) onto the remaining white areas of the canvas.

"You're a work of art my love," Joe grins, grinding his hips flush against the curve of Nicky's ass, petting his hair, kissing him breathless until his lungs begin to ache and suddenly Nicky is cumming, moaning something embarrassingly high pitched and slightly wounded, tightening around the length of Joe inside of him in a way that makes Joe follow quickly after him.

Joe licks Nicky's spend clean from his hips before pulling out slowly but still, Nicky lets out a quiet hiss. The gentle gape of him is bright pink, verging on an irritated red and Joe apologizes by kissing him there, tonguing Nicky clean.

*

"Cool painting," Nile says one morning over a bowl of cereal. "I'm not really a fan of abstract work, but I love the colors! There's just so much movement." She crunches a spoonful of cheerios into her mouth before continuing. "You painted this then, Joe?"  
  
Joe gives her a sly grin, glancing past her shoulder and gazing at Nicolo in the kitchen. There is a heated blush already forming on the curve of his face, nearly as bright as the hues on the canvas. "Yes," Joe laughs. "With Nicky's help, of course."

There is a sudden clatter in the kitchen, Nicky having dropped his spoon against the counter.

"Really? I didn't know you were an artist too, Nicky?" 

He's muttering something in Italian too fast for Nile to understand and Joe is laughing, a huge guffaw that wracks throughout his body.

"Nicolo is quite the accomplished painter," Joe hums. "He is art as well as the inspiration."

"You guys are weird," Nile says, though she can't help herself from grinning despite the obvious secret conversation they are holding.

"But good job on the painting, it's really nice."

"Thank you, Nile," Nicky says, bringing his own bowl of cereal up to his lips and staring heatedly at Joe over the rim of the bowl.

"Perhaps we will make another one."

**Author's Note:**

> Nile: That's a cool painting hanging in the breakfast room!   
> Andy: Oh, you mean Nicky and Joe's sex painting?  
> Nile: T-their what?
> 
> I wrote this for the prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5880.html?thread=2108664#cmt2108664
> 
> Hope I did it justice ^_^


End file.
